And Thirteen Days
by Janie-ohio
Summary: Harry's been gone on a mission for over half a year, and finally, he's coming home. It's only been seven months and thirteen days, not that Draco is counting (Malfoys do NOT pine for their spouses). Companion piece and sequel to "Seven Months", takes place Spring 2013. Part of Series of Draco/Harry married life "That's Life Together".
1. And Thirteen Days

**Author's Note:**

This story began with inspiration from some of the many amazing images of what I call "Scruffy Auror Harry" by Blvnk-Art on Tumblr, and what scenario I imagined it would take to get a Draco-married Harry into such a state.

The song mentioned is _Somewhere Only We Know_, originally by Keane, covered the year before this story takes place by Lily Allen, and sung for Glee by Darren Criss (found in YouTube), which is how I imagine Harry sounding.

To orient you chronologically, if reading as part of my _That's Life Together_ series, this story takes place in Spring 2013 and is a companion piece to my "Seven Months" story. They can be read separately, or together.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was waiting.

He _hated_ waiting.

It made him feel irritable and bitchy. (Yes, yes, ok, so maybe he was often irritable and bitchy, but waiting made him _more_ irritable and bitchy.) And this wasn't just any kind of waiting, this was _long term_ waiting.

He had been waiting for months, and if someone wasn't allowed to be irritable and bitchy after waiting for months, then when were they?

Getting up from his favourite chair in the library, he wandered across the room and listened to the silence of the house. He could hear the cat snoring quietly in the window seat and the sound of the occasional traffic on the road below humming in the background. Otherwise, it was quiet.

_Too_ quiet, really.

There were times that he yearned for this type of quiet, where he could be alone with his thoughts and work out potions puzzles in his head. He was always trying to work on some new draught or elixir, and it required time to think. As much as he loved his husband, sometimes he was just too _loud_ and busy (To be expected of a Gryffindor) and Draco needed some damned quiet.

But not now.

It was too quiet, and it had been for months. Seven months and thirteen days, to be exact, not that he was counting. Harry had been away on a long term assignment for seven and a half months, and Draco was ready for him to be home.

Living with an Auror was not something new to Draco. Nine years together gets a man used to certain uncomfortable truths. For instance, an unexpected owl can turn one's bowels to water before it's discovered it's just a friend's invitation to a quidditch game. Or nightmares of one's past, long thought banished by a lover's nightly embrace, can still return with a vengeance more than a decade after the original events.

But the worst was the self-doubt. No. He wasn't going to go there. Harry loved him, and seven months was _not_ going to change things, no matter what his anxiety tried to tell him. (Malfoys are not anxious. They are self-confident and strong.)

So yes, he was a reasonable man, married to an Auror, and he knew what to expect during these absences. But who in their right mind would think that seven and a half months was reasonable?

Ugh. This brooding was getting ridiculous and he needed to snap out of it. (Malfoys do _not _mope.) Harry was coming home tonight, and he needed to get himself together instead of appearing like some snivelling simpleton.

At least he had some warning, thanks to Hermione Granger-Weasley. She had stopped over earlier to let him know the team was on its way home from the secret assignment. Letters in and out had been sporadic, and even then there were no details about the actual logistics, making every day's headlines something to worry over. The original estimate of three months had stretched to more than twice that, and with each day the uncertainty grew more difficult.

Hermione and he might not have always seen eye to eye (Understatement can be a virtue), but he had become somewhat fond of her in recent years for her loyalty to Harry, which oddly enough seemed to now extend to him. In her current position as the Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement, she received reports regularly and passed on what information she could. She couldn't give him any details, but she could assure him all was well, and in this case, let him prepare for Harry's arrival tonight.

And thank goodness for that warning, because after he'd thanked her most sincerely for her kindness, offered her tea, (He was nothing if not a gracious host) and assured her he'd make sure Harry was well taken care of, Draco had to take time to have a small Emotional Episode. (Malfoys didn't have meltdowns or sobbing fits. They had Emotional Episodes, and his was tiny. Miniscule, really, and probably didn't even deserve the capital Es. It was over after only 45 minutes, and after he took a shower and dealt with the remnants of the said _e_pisode on his face, he was perfectly presentable.)

Therefore, the advanced notice from Hermione was very much appreciated.

So now, there was nothing left to do but wait and attempt to ignore his nervousness. The house was clean, (he'd even cleaned up after his last snack as he knew that Harry would notice the effort), the cat was fed, and Draco was presentable. He could try to do some work in the lab, but he knew better than to work when he couldn't devote his full attention to the potions. (Cauldron melting à la Longbottom was not acceptable in _his_ lab.)

The silence crept in on him, and Draco wandered to the shelves of pictures by the window. Frames with Harry and Draco with friends and family waving silently back at him just made it worse. A picture of Teddy in his Hufflepuff Quidditch gear, blue hair blowing in the wind, stuck his tongue out at him, finally eliciting a chuckle. Their godson was busy preparing for OWLs next year, and Draco envied him the constant sources of distraction. Still, he realized he should shoot off a quick note to the boy that Harry was coming home. After all, he had plans for Harry that would keep them both busy for the next few days (at the bare minimum), and sending an owl wasn't on the agenda.

Draco glanced at his watch. A couple more hours at least, according to Hermione's estimation. He decided to sit and attempt to watch a movie, maybe have a cup of tea, and try to get through.

* * *

Sipping his tea in front of the telly, his mind kept wandering to the previous autumn, only days before they got word about this latest assignment. They had just celebrated their third wedding anniversary, and Draco suggested they go out to a night at the theatre. He wanted tickets to see _Wicked_ again, but Harry had his heart set on The _Book of Mormon_. Either was fine, really, but they both enjoyed bickering and so really, it was just an excuse. No matter what they saw, though, Draco wanted to dress nice and go to a fancy restaurant. Which, of course, meant that Harry needed a damned haircut.

Again.

The Hair Argument was one of the most long term disagreements in their marriage. Well, Draco considered it a disagreement, if one could disagree with hair. Harry himself didn't care, so let Draco fight it out, and often, Draco lost. Harry had long ago come to terms with his hair having a mind of its own, but Draco had yet to accept defeat. He'd tried magical stylists, muggle hairdressers, and even special potions (Harry's grandfather had invented Sleekeazy's, so one would think it'd know how to deal with Potter's hair).

Moreover, Draco had tried _reasoning_ with the hair, though Harry had told him that rarely worked, and even tried sneaking up and cutting the hair while Harry (and his hair) slept. Sometimes Draco won for a few days and the hair would be neat and tidy and stylish, but it never stayed that way for long, practically taunting him in its unrelenting desire to grow wild.

It wasn't that Draco found it unattractive. On the contrary, everything about Harry was attractive (except maybe his insistence of yelling in the house like a peasant), but Draco took it as a personal affront that he couldn't make Harry's hair behave.

Whatever the case, Draco had lost the argument back in September, so they'd settled on a less formal evening out, having dinner at a little Indian restaurant they both loved and just walking together through the local park. Harry's hair got its way and remained somewhat wild.

Draco smiled at the memory.

Lost in his thoughts of haircuts and Indian food, Draco did not hear the sound of the floo in the library.

"Draco!?"

Draco jumped, the nerves that had only recently relented coming back at full force at the sound of Harry's voice hours earlier than expected.

Seven months and thirteen days.

"Harry? HARRY!" Draco did _not_ yell (nasty habit, that), but did speak loudly, walking quite elegantly to the hall, (and if it were a bit hurried, no one was there to notice, because Malfoys did _not_ run.)

Draco turned the corner and there he was, his husband who he had not seen in over half a year. At least, he _thought_ it was his husband, but…

Suddenly Draco was in Harry's arms and yes, it was definitely Harry, but what the hell was going on? Draco pulled back and tried to get a better look, except Harry's lips were already on his. His soft, sweet, and chapped (as usual) lips were on him, and the prickle on his upper lip barely registered. Wait. _Prickle_? He tried to pull back, but a mass of hair entered his view as he turned his face. What. The. Hell?

"Harry, wait, hold on." Draco tried to gasp, but he was once again under assault and decided to just go with it for now, happy to have his husband back in his arms, and relieved that nothing important seemed to have changed between them. The smell of his hair, and his perfect fit up against him, and his taste… yes. Yes, it was Harry, and Draco was finally able to relax and enjoy, even if his brain was still trying to make sense of the hair situation.

Eventually, Harry pulled back and leaned his forehead to Draco's. "I missed you so much. I won't do this again. Seven months was too long. If they don't like it, they can fire me."

"Seven months and thirteen days, actually."

"Yeah, and thirteen days," Harry agreed. "Come on, let's sit down. Have you had dinner yet? I'm starving."

Draco stepped back. "I was just considering ordering in Indian food, but… first, let me look at this."

"This?" Harry asked, confused.

"Yes, this." Draco gestured to Harry's head and face. "It looks positively wild. Do they not have shaving spells and barbers wherever you were?" He looked him over more closely. "Or showers? You're filthy!"

"Well, yeah, but it worked as good cover and really, why bother? You know it never listens to me anyway. Don't worry, I'll let you clean me up. Why don't you go order some of that Indian while I go shower, then I'll let you play beautician when I'm done." With that, Harry gave him another kiss, grabbed his bag he had set down, and went down the hall to the bedroom and shower.

Draco stood still, stunned as he took in the whole picture and his husband's retreating back. Harry was home, and he looked… well, he looked _hot_.

No, not hot, but Hot, with a capital H.

His beard definitely needed trimming, and his hair needed a good wash, but Draco had never imagined that he could look like _this_. It was like his husband came home, but brought something exotic with him. He felt his body take an interest.

Maybe it was just the shock of seeing him. Maybe it was just seeing Harry in general and had nothing to do with the beard and hair. Yes, that must be it. Because Malfoys were not attracted to scruffy vagrants, and that's what beards and long hair looked like. Right?

Anyway, Indian food. He was supposed to be ordering Indian food, so that's what he'd do. And if his mind was on his husband's new look, it was just because he was so relieved to have him home.

Totally normal.

* * *

Draco reclined on the bed (because Malfoys don't lounge), waiting on Harry to finish his shower. The food was ordered and would be at least an hour. He considered joining him in the shower but knew Harry used the time after coming home from work to decompress and to put him in a more domestic frame of mind. Still, Draco was anxious and done with waiting. He stood to head to the bathroom but heard Harry start to sing.

He loved it when Harry sang. It wasn't perfect, but it was good and clear and best of all, happy. Harry only sang when he was happy. He stopped in the bathroom doorway and just leaned against the frame, listening.

_I came across a fallen tree_

_I felt the branches of it looking at me_

_Is this the place we used to love?_

_Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?_

_Oh, simple thing, where have you gone?_

_I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on_

_So tell me when you're gonna let me in_

_I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin_

He just couldn't resist. Draco quietly undressed and set his clothes neatly on the sink (Malfoys are not heathens, for Merlin's sake). He approached the shower and quietly stepped into the corner. Harry's back was to him, so Draco took a moment to just admire.

_And if you have a minute, why don't we go_

_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_

_This could be the end of everything_

_So why don't we go_

_Somewhere only we know?_

Damn, he really liked the hair. Like, really _really_ liked the hair. Now that it was wet and hanging over Harry's shoulders, Draco was ready to drool. (Not that Malfoys drooled, but if they did, he'd be in danger.)

Harry turned, made eye contact with Draco, and smiled. It was Harry's fault, really, that Draco suddenly felt weak in the knees. Those eyes were dangerous enough but mixed with that smile, and now surrounded by that ridiculous...ly sexy beard, well, how was anyone supposed to resist that? Honestly, he might have to make him shave just to keep people from hanging on him more than they already did, and really, that'd be a crime because, _damn_, that beard was really Hot.

Draco stepped forward and buried his hands in Harry's wet hair, then pulled him to him. He had waited so long for this moment. So long to hold him in his arms again, and to smell him, and taste him, and oh Merlin, how he wanted to taste him more. He slowly dropped to his knees, stopping to take a nipple into his mouth, before proceeding to his intended destination.

Sure, he wanted to drag this out, but dinner was going to be delivered soon, and damn it, he wanted Harry to come in his mouth _now_. (An appetizer, if you will, because Malfoys prefer to maintain the social niceties and what is a welcome home dinner without an appetizer?)

Giving Harry (and that beard) a long, smouldering look, Draco took Harry into his mouth and sweet, sweet Circe, this is what he had missed. Harry's groan and gentle thrusting into the back of his throat brought forth a low hum of appreciation (Malfoys don't moan like animals). Reaching for his own cock, Draco quickly worked them both into an increasingly blissful state until Harry shot into Draco's mouth, pushing Draco over the edge moments later at the familiar taste.

And if they both came in record time, well, seven months and thirteen days is a _long_ fucking time (especially for a Malfoy).

Harry leaned back into the shower spray and pulled Draco up for a slow, lingering kiss.

"God, I missed you. So are you ready to play barber? Or did you want to wait until after dinner?"

"Honestly, Potter, do you think I have nothing better to do than play with your hair? And shave you? Well, maybe I'll give you a trim, but really, I'm surprised you'd let me near you with a blade."

Harry chuckled and nuzzled Draco's neck, tickling him with his beard in (delicious) ways Draco had never imagined. "You like the look that much, huh? Who would have thought that a Malfoy-?"

"Shhh!" Draco cut him off, then muttered, "it'll hear you and think it beat me."

Harry rolled his eyes with a fond smile.

Turning off the water, Draco grabbed a towel, also throwing one to Harry (because he's very considerate like that), and began to dry his hair. Watching Harry towel his, he started to feel himself stirring again and turned away.

"Malfoys are quite trendy, I'll have you know," he said to Harry('s hair). "Long hair and beards are very much in vogue right now. I was honestly going to suggest you consider such a thing, so…you know, you can keep it if you like."

"Indeed, how gracious of you, but then I'd expect nothing else from a Malfoy," Harry said with a smirk. Draco wanted to lick that smirk right off his face.

"Too right. Now, dinner should be here shortly, then we have seven months to catch up on."

"And thirteen days," Harry added, as he grabbed Draco and pulled him in for another nuzzle. "Can't forget about those thirteen days."

Draco ran his fingers through Harry's now shoulder-length hair, drying it the rest of the way with a quick spell, and thought about all the (dirty) things he'd like to do with Harry's hair in the next thirteen days. He breathed in Harry's scent one more time as the doorbell rang, and sighed.

"Merlin, I missed you, too. Now throw a robe on and go get the food. I'm starving."

As Harry walked away humming, Draco revelled in the noise that naturally surrounded his husband. It was so good to have him home, and he might even make sure he knew that (Malfoys can be quite magnanimous, you know).

* * *

_**A/N: This story is part of a series: That's Life Together. This story is a companion piece to "Seven Months" (added a preview in the next chapter), following Harry's departure and Draco's letters during his time away. Links and more information on my Author Profile.**_


	2. Preview of Seven Months

A/N: Preview of _Seven Months_, the companion story to _And Thirteen Days_. _And Thirteen Days_ falls between Chapters 3 and 4 of _Seven Months_.

* * *

**Seven Months**

**Chapter 1: Kingsley's Request**

Harry opened the door to Grimmauld Place and placed his bag down on the entrance table, then stared at the flowers in his left hand. It was a warm early autumn day, and he felt the beads of sweat dripping down his back. He wasn't completely sure whether they were due to the heat, or his dread.

Two hours earlier, Head Auror Robards had called him into his office where Kingsley was waiting for him. "Potter, the minister would like a private word with you." He inclined his head respectfully to Kingsley. "Sir, take as long as you need." He left, closing the door behind him.

Kingsley looked closely at Harry, then nodded. "Harry, you're looking well. Not overworked at the moment, I trust?"

Harry cocked his head in curiosity. This was already an odd conversation. "I'm quite well-rested, actually. We just got back from celebrating our anniversary last week, and it was very relaxing."

"Wonderful!" He clasped his hands and stood, as if something was settled, then he took a breath, as though he was preparing to talk about something serious. "Harry," he began solemnly, "the ICW has come to me with a request. I'm not sure how versed you are in current world events, but there is a muggle civil war raging in a country called Syria in western Asia. Are you familiar with this?"

Harry nodded, as Hermione and Draco had discussed this several times over the last year. "Somewhat. I know the headlines, anyway."

"Good. Well, they have identified no less than two dozen magical international citizens that are trapped within the country, unable to escape for various reasons. It is a very perilous situation that requires a delicate solution. The ICW has asked that we lend a team to the task force they are putting together to track these individuals and get them out." He stopped talking, waiting for a response.

"Sir, are you asking if I will join this team?"

"No Harry, not quite." Harry felt relief rushing through him and sat down. Search and rescue missions were his speciality, but the idea of going into a war zone for some undetermined length of time was not something he wanted to consider. He still suffered flashbacks from his own time on the run, and added to that, he hated to leave Draco for long periods. The last time he was gone an entire month, they both suffered for it with nightmares and eventual exhaustion.

"They want you to lead it."

Harry froze, unable to speak as conflicting feelings raced through his head. Lead the team. That would be a great opportunity. As the team lead, he'd be able to display his leadership skills and put to rest the last bit of concerns about his youth the Wizengamot seemed to have. After this, perhaps he'd finally move on to Head Auror.

"Lead the team?"

"No, Harry. Lead the task force."

Harry just stared at Kingsley, dumbfounded. Lead the entire task force? But— He— "The entire task force? Why?"

Kingsley gave him a disapproving look. "Do you really have to ask? Your skills are impressive, you inspire leadership, and you have the most experience and best success rate at search and rescue missions that I've ever seen. You have experience in battle situations, and your reflexes and natural battle intuition is nothing short of amazing. Most of these other wizards have never been in a war, let alone seen this kind of battle. This team is going to have multiple levels, both supportive and on the ground. They need someone who understands the importance of both roles and has been there. You are uniquely qualified, Harry."

"How long are they thinking?"

"Three months, give or take a few weeks. They already have a few people on the ground tracking leads. The teams that go in, around two dozen people total, will be French, British, American, and Turkish. Everyone, including the support teams, will be deep undercover. Harry, this is an incredibly dangerous situation, but we need to get those people out of there."

Three months. Three fucking months. He felt sick to his stomach. "And the Muggle innocents?"

"You'll be able to bring relief supplies like food and medicines, but you won't be able to take them out of there. It's too dangerous. You'll be using portkeys to extract the Magicals, and you can't use those on Muggles, Harry. I'm sorry."

Harry dropped his head into his hands. He had to do this. He wouldn't be turning this down. "When would I have to leave?"

"They want you there on Friday morning."

"Friday?!" He looked up sharply. "It's three o'clock on Wednesday. That's less than forty-eight hours!"

"They need to give you time to get caught up and talk with the people already on the ground, and to put together a plan with the advisory team most familiar with the area and situation. Harry, this region has been in civil war for over a year now, and the violence has begun escalating. The families, including children, are completely out of contact. Will you do this?"

"Dammit, Kingsley, of course, I'll do it! What the hell did you expect I'd do?! If I can help, I will."

"And I don't think I have to point out how helpful this will be to your career."

"Fuck my career! If you think I give a flying rat's arse about my career in comparison to this situation— "

"Harry, stop it. Now!" Kingsley had raised his voice and it cut Harry off immediately. "Of course I know that's not what's important to you, but it's a fact anyway. Consider it compensation for what you're about to be put through. This is going to be hard, it's going to be terrifying, and it's going to be emotionally trying. But you're going to go and save lives, and you're going to be rewarded with a substantial advancement in your career on your return. Robards has been requesting retirement for two years now. I've simply been waiting until the time you were ready to accept the position, and the Wizengamot was ready to approve it. You're ready, I believe, and this will take care of the other."

Harry knew he should stop grinding his teeth. What Kingsley was saying made sense, but he hated this entire situation, and that he _still _had to prove himself to those arseholes in the Wizengamot. He glanced to the clock on Robard's desk.

"I need to go. If I only have thirty-six hours before having to leave, I have things to take care of. What's the security level on this?"

"The highest. Robards knows you're going to work with the ICW, but not what you'll be doing. Hermione and I will be your contacts with Britain, so you'll be able to discuss the basics with her if you need, but no specifics once you're briefed. She will know what you know now, and nothing else."

"Does she already know?"

"She was in my briefing with the French ambassador before I came down, so yes, she knows. She'll take care of handing off your caseload, so you can just give her a few updates and go home."

Home. He needed to go home. "What can I tell Draco?"

"Almost nothing, Harry. I'm sorry. You can tell him you're leaving the country and for how long, and that you're leading the task force. That's how much Robards knows, so that should be alright, but nothing else. You'll have nearly no communication with home while you're gone. We'll be able to get letters in and out for you occasionally, but no floo, no communication mirrors, no owls, obviously." He paused. "Are you still willing to do this? I won't force you."

Harry sat quietly, trying to hide his distress. He knew he was shit at that, though. "Yeah, I'll do it. I just need to talk to Hermione, then go home." He smiled sadly. "What do you think, flowers or chocolates?"

Kingsley chuckled. "If it were me, I'd bring home both. Good luck, Harry, and take care of yourself. Hermione will meet you on Friday morning with your portkey. Now get out of here."

Harry nodded and stood, then straightened his back and walked out of the office. He stopped at his desk and shuffled a few papers, then grabbed a couple of personal items and shoved them in his bag. Finally, he reached into his desk and pulled out his secret coin, the one that no one but Draco knew he carried with him on all his missions. He flipped it over and looked at the galleon Hermione had charmed so many years ago with the Protean charm. He'd applied a new one on it several years ago, and given a matching one to Draco. If he was ever stuck, and only in the direst of emergencies, he'd use it to get a final message home. He hadn't told Draco that's what it was for, but Draco was smart. He knew.

Leaving the Auror department, he moved down the hall to Magical Law Enforcement's top offices. Hermione, as Deputy Head, had one of the largest, and he could see her working quietly at her desk. She looked up through the glass as he approached and nodded solemnly. He opened the door and walked in as she pressed a button, dimming the windows so they could not be seen.

Crossing the room, he wrapped her in his arms. "God, Hermione. Three months in a war zone. How the hell am I going to do this? And I can't tell Draco any of it."

She squeezed him tight. "It's probably for the best. He'd lose his mind if he knew where you'd be and what you'd be doing. At least this way, it won't be as bad."

He pulled back and looked at her. "Have you met my husband? The not knowing is going to be the worst. He'll invent all kinds of crazy, worse things that I could be up to and work himself up until he's having panic attacks again."

She let go of him and stepped back, rolling her eyes. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Harry, he's not that bad. And we'll take care of him. You worry about taking care of yourself. As long as you come back to him, he'll be okay."

"Keep an eye on him, Hermione. He gets terrible nightmares when I'm not there. So do I, actually, but I can cope."

"I will. _We _will. Now go home to him. Do I need to know anything else about your cases before you leave, or is everything in your notes?"

"I don't have anything overly pressing. Smithe has been working them with me, so talk to her. She'll give you any other updates necessary."

"Good. Harry? I'll miss you. Be careful, alright?"

"I'll do my best, love. Tell the family tonight, will you? And Andi? We'll stop by the Burrow tomorrow evening for a few minutes, but I don't want to have to tell them. I'd rather just say my goodbyes. I'll talk to Teddy by mirror, so I think I can skip a trip to Hogwarts."

"I'll take care of it. Go home, Harry."

"Yeah, thanks, Hermione. You're the best, you know that?"

"Of course."

So now here he was, home. A box of chocolates in his bag and flowers in his hand, and he had to tell Draco.

* * *

**A/N: This was a copy of the first chapter of Seven Months, the companion piece to And Thirteen Days. To read the rest, please visit my author's profile and click on the new story. Thanks for reading! **


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